I Need A Doctor
by Atherly
Summary: Rachel Berry is used to celebrity and having her fans fawning all over her.  But what happens when she becomes a fan of her number one fan?
1. Chapter 1

It's not that she wants to retire or anything, that would be ludicrous, not to mention the fact that her fathers, best friends, agent and manager would all kill her if she did. She can only imagine what the headlines would read: Broadway starlet and Tony award nominee Rachel Berry unexpectedly quits acting to do… what exactly? Sell Insurance? Maybe work in that coffee shop off ninth that she practically gives her whole pay check to?

There's no chance in hell and that's the problem. There is simply nowhere else that she can see herself except in front of bright lights on stage losing herself in another role, another character. Another chance to really experience life through the eyes of a young girl feeling love's burgeoning touch for the first time or a wronged witch in search of revenge and respect.

Maybe if she spent less time losing herself in characters and more time focusing on her own empty shell of a life, well, she wouldn't be here. Tired, burnt out and lonely beyond all compare. Sure she's got an amazing support system; her dads are perfect really and she doesn't know what she would do without Kurt and Mercedes in her life but something's missing. Or someone to be exact and before she starts catering to some fictional character she needs to focus a little more on herself first.

Pushing away her depressing thoughts Rachel enters one of her favourite vegan restaurants and scans the seating area for Kurt and Mercedes. Spying them she heads over to their table and greets them with typical diva flair.

"'Cedes, Kurt. How are we today?"

"Looking good Berry."

"Yeah Rach, I'm loving this new look you've got going on. Is that Chanel?" Mercedes leans forward to get a better look at the glossy handbag currently resting on the table between them. "Rachel it's gorgeous!"

"Isn't it? I got to keep it as a thank you gift after the Vogue spread." Kurt and Mercedes both ooh and aah as they inspect the bag.

"It's flawless. Without flaw even."

"Easy there snagglepuss." Mercedes chuckles and signals to the waiter that they are ready to begin. As she waits for him to reach their table she assesses Rachel. "You okay Rach? You look a bit down."

"I'm fine. A little tired these days but you've seen what my schedule looks like."

"Tell me about it. I still get nightmares from the damn thing." Kurt smiles at this and then looks at Rachel as well.

"You do look a little worn. You sure you're okay hon?" Rachel nods slowly and then relents with a deep sigh.

"I should be right? I mean my career is doing well, I've got a wonderful life and I live in one of the most amazing places in the world. I mean I should be shouting from the rooftops how happy I am." Mercedes and Kurt nod in commiseration and honestly it's not helping.

"Maybe you need a vacation." Mercedes says and Kurt perks up in agreement as she powers on. "I mean you've been working nonstop for the past year and a half with auditions and rehearsals and the whole PR circuit, not to mention the play itself. Take some time off. Fly to some exotic island and relax for a week or two."

"I guess. I just- do you guys ever get lonely?" with the way her two friends are looking at her Rachel feels a little foolish asking them. Of course they don't. Kurt has Blaine and as they've just recently celebrated their five year anniversary, she hardly thinks that they have any opportunity to feel lonely. Mercedes just went on a date with a ridiculously handsome exec that she met at her record company so, again, loneliness is not an option.

"Rach-"

"It's not-I know why I'm lonely so don't even say it Kurt." Kurt holds up his hands in defeat and allows her to continue. "I work too hard and I'm too picky but honestly can you blame me? Nowadays the only people that approach me only want me because my name is on some stupid billboard in Times Square and 'wouldn't it be great to say that you banged Rachel Berry?' It's- It's exhausting is what it is."

"So what are you going to do?"

Glancing around at the busy restaurant Rachel sighs again and thinks about the empty apartment, save her little bull terrier Melchior, and the dinner for one that awaits her there.

"What I always do I guess. Power through."

* * *

><p>After lunch with Kurt and Mercedes who try their best to cheer her up Rachel decides to head back to the apartment. Today has been a taxing day at best and she wants nothing more than to curl up in bed with her best bud Malchi and leave her concerns for another day.<p>

As she enters the lobby of her building she spies the burly and usually stoic doorman having a conversation with someone. It's the first time that she's seen him do anything other than nod stiffly when she enters and so it catches her off guard for a minute. She could have sworn that she saw him eating a doughnut. Either way she's glad someone's enjoying their day.

* * *

><p>There are worse ways to end her day than this Santana thinks as she sneaks up to the doorman of her building with a doughnut and coffee in hand. Mr Sullivan, or Sully as she liked to call him, has been working at her parents' apartment complex since she was a teenager with a bad attitude and a penchant for reckless behaviour. At six feet three inches with bushy eyebrows and a shiny pale head he is an imposing figure at the entrance of Fermera Towers.<p>

Where her parents were too preoccupied with their own affairs to pay her any mind Sully had taken up the slack, acting as her mentor of sorts, a shoulder to cry on when she was young and confused and a strict disciplinarian when she needed it. They had been through a lot together and if nothing else she could always count on him to brighten her day. His obvious sweet tooth usually helped to smooth their interactions from time to time.

"Sully."

"Miss Lopez." Barely glancing up at her Sully rearranged the papers on his desk and resumed his perusal of the building's security feed.

"When are you gonna let me help you with that stick problem you've got going on there? It's so far up your ass you've got to be spitting out wood chips on the regular." Her smile is saccharine sweet as she offers him the doughnut.

"Least you could do since you're the reason I've got it. That for me?" snagging the donut from her hand he takes a huge bite and then reaches for the coffee.

"Uh uh. The doughnut's yours, the coffee's mine. I had a long shift and I need all the help I can get." She takes a sip of coffee and hears the elevator go up without her. "Shit. I'm not taking the fucking stairs."

"Just wait for the darn thing and stop swearing."

"I'm just so tired." She's whining now but Sully never seems to mind. Work is killing her these days and all that she wants is to curl up on her couch with a hot meal and a warm blanket.

"Don't work yourself too hard Santana."

"You first."

Patting Sully on the head she smirks and heads to wait for her ride up. As she waits for the elevator to descend she ponders her life as it is today. She had a lot to thank Sully for and they both knew it. Without his input she would have been on her way to a life of frequent jail visits or, if her parents had any hope, military camp in Bumfuck, Ohio. Fortunately, Sully had stepped in and taken all of the then pent up teenage angst and put it to good use.

Because of him she had gotten her shit together and applied to Columbia undergrad and then on to Columbia Med. There she had excelled beyond her parents wildest dreams and as a reward they offered her an apartment, rent free. It wasn't too bad all things considered. She had a wonderful and fulfilling job working as a resident at New York General. She had decent friends, Mike a dance instructor and Quinn a literature major on her way to becoming a publisher or editor or some such shit and Sam, her med school buddy and the biggest freaking nerd she knew.

Almost simultaneously her phone beeps signalling an incoming message just as the elevator dings to announce its arrival. A smile grows on her face as she realizes that her phone is alerting her to a new tweet from one of her favourite celebrities Rachel Berry.

Quinn can't understand Santana's crush on the Broadway ingénue and teases her about her fangirling every chance that she gets. Whatever. Rachel Berry is ridiculously talented and so fricken cute with her overenthusiastic tweeting (really how many exclamation marks does she need?) and her fierce love of animals, horses in particular. Seriously if Santana ever had the opportunity to meet her she'd probably die on the spot. Not that she's a punk or anything but hey if she has a type it's Rachel Berry.

Before reading the tweet she sees that she has a text from Mike informing her that he and Quinn are on their way with some takeout. He asks if Sam's there with a 'frowny' face added to the end and Santana rolls her eyes in disgust. Sam and Quinn had had the ridiculously stupid idea to try a friends-with-benefits scenario that went sour fast when Quinn realized that Sam was more into her than she could ever be into him. It's not like Santana didn't warn them about how stupid that idea was or anything. Now they're not even speaking to each other and Sam wants to know whose side she's taking.

Look she likes the guy, big fishy lips, blond floppy hair and all but honestly she's known Quinn since she was six and had been skipping her ballet class to go learn hip hop dancing on the side. That was how she'd met Mike. Quinn had been in her ballet class and as soon as she realized what Santana was up to she'd blackmailed her into letting her join in on their fun. God she was such a bitch, even then.

When she arrives at her apartment she hears a dog barking in the apartment next door. If it weren't for the dog she'd never believe that the apartment was occupied. She's seen the occupant of said apartment once, an obviously gay pale guy about her age with a penchant for tight pants and singing show tunes at the top of his lungs when she's trying to get some sleep. She's also pretty sure that she never wants to see him again if that's the case.

As she's about to enter she hears the elevator ding and sees Quinn and Mike approach. They're giggling in that weird Quinn and Mike way that they've been doing recently and honestly it just irritates the hell out of her, she doesn't know why. Giggly bastards.

"Ren, Stimpy, so nice of you to take your sweet time. What'd you get me?"

Mike rolls his eyes at her and then opens the bag to show her.

"Thai to go, what do you know? You gonna let us in?"

"I don't know, you gonna hand over that takeout?" Quinn huffs as though she's had enough and really she can go take a cool seat in fuckville. Santana just came off of a twenty eight hour shift at the hospital, she's tired, she's cranky and these two twits just won't stop giggling. Oh shit, the tweet.

Scrambling for her phone she doesn't notice Mike and Quinn smirk at her.

"Another tweet from your lady love?" Quinn says and there's barely a pause before Santana's flipping them the bird.

"Shut up okay. I'm a fan that's all."

"Pssht yeah right. I mean it's not like you stalk her twitter, her facebook, go to all of her shows and currently have your dvr set to catch the Tonys or anything."

"Fuck off. Look I don't say anything when Chang over here goes batshit insane whenever one of those stupid comic books comes out." Mike's gasp of outrage is almost worth stopping her spiel for but she's on a roll and honestly she's sick and tired of them ragging on her comparatively casual interest in Rachel Berry. "And God forbid I say anything bad about any of those old literature freaks that have you soaking your panties on the regular."

"Uh huh, yeah sure and what happens if Rachel Berry doesn't win the Tony for Best Actress?" Mike smiles victoriously as he awaits her response. She'll let them have this one because Rachel Berry deserves that Tony period.

"I'll find the voting panel, cut their balls off, stitch them back on and cut them off again. Now stop wasting my time and give me my damn food."

As she enters her apartment she's sure she hears the sound of a door clicking shut but is soon distracted yet again by the unread tweet.

_RachelBerryStar - Gloomy day today. Oh well, the sun'll come out tomorrow :)_


	2. Chapter 2

There's something about warm weather, wonderful company and brand new, nine hundred dollar pumps courtesy of Manolo Blahnik that does wonders for Rachel's mood. She smiles to herself as she thinks this and then turns to look at Mercedes and Mercedes' godson Mark who are chattering excitedly to each other as they head to the waiting car. Their day of shopping complete, they're on their way to Rachel's apartment for lunch and some Disney therapy in the form of a movie marathon. Yes things have been a little down for her these past few days but there has been good in her life and if her time with Mercedes and the adorably precocious little boy has done anything, it's proven that to her.

Still even good days have their bad moments and after idling in New York's notoriously bad traffic for the better part of an hour, they're all more than exhausted when they finally arrive at Rachel's building. There's some commotion on the pavement with a moving crew and from the looks of some of the large and expensive pieces of furniture going in, Fermera Towers is getting another high roller resident.

Rachel chuckles to herself at the notion that she is one of those people. She's never felt that way even after all of her success and rubbing shoulders with some of entertainment's elite. She still remembers the years spent slaving away at two jobs while heading back and forth to auditions. Ramen noodle dinners was a staple back then and the apartment that she had shared with two very volatile roommates had been dingy and cramped at best. There had been many fights and even more storm outs, they didn't call her a diva for nothing, but at the end of it, when she finally got to see her name in lights on Broadway she could say without a shadow of a doubt that it had been worth it.

"Hey 'Cedes, I think I forgot my phone in the car, why don't you guys head up and I'll meet you up there?"

Merecedes nods at her and then signals for Mark to follow her into the building. Rachel takes a moment to smile at them before remembering that she's expecting a call from her agent Steven about upcoming projects and really needs that phone. She told him about her plan to take some time off and he had insisted that he wouldn't get in the way of it but that there was one last project that he wanted her to take a look at. She had been reluctant at first but after hearing the name of the production company behind the project she had to admit that she was very intrigued. Maybe she had it wrong and something new and exciting was just what she needed to get her out of her doldrums. Or maybe Mercedes was right earlier that day when she surmised that a roll in the sack was more likely to solve her present dilemma.

"_Look I'm not saying that you should just jump in bed with any random guy-"_

"_Or girl."_

"_Right. Or girl that you meet but Rae, come on! You're stressed out and lonely. Who says that while you're looking for Mister or Misses Right that you can't have a little fun on the side? I mean look at me. Things with Patrick didn't work out and it sucks, yes but I'm not going to let that bring me down. We had our time and now this independent woman needs to move on."_

"_Really?" The look that she gives Mercedes is incredulous and Mercedes laughs lightly and then continues._

"_I'm not saying that what works for me is going to work for you but if your tried and true method isn't working, don't you think that that's a sign to switch things up? Look at me. Every time I get with a guy in the business it ends up getting in the way of pleasure. So, now I'm seeking elsewhere. I even got some friends to hook me up on a blind date tonight. Maybe it'll work, maybe it won't. At least I tried and, hell, if I play my cards right, I might even get lucky."_

Mercedes had punctuated her statement with a little hair toss and after she had reduced Rachel to snorting in laughter she excused herself to look at a Spiderman doll that Mark had been eyeing since they entered the store. In her absence, Rachel contemplated her friend's words. No relationship these past few months had meant that there was definitely no sex either and truth be told she had been feeling a bit, well antsy, where that was concerned. Sure there had been interested parties but Rachel herself had been hard pressed to find any interest in them.

Sighing to herself at the direction that her thoughts have taken, she spins around as she hears her name being shouted.

"Rae! Rae! Spiderman!"

Spinning around Rachel sees Mark running towards her, his tiny legs pumping furiously in his haste to reach the car before it can drive off with his prized possession. Her smile at his appearance turns to horror as she realises almost too late that the movers, struggling with an extremely heavy looking bookshelf, haven't seen him. Mark tries to slip between them and under the bookshelf to get to her but one of the movers misjudges his hold on it and as if in slow motion, the bookshelf begins to fall.

Rachel's heart leaps in her throat and as visions of the impending accident flash through her mind, she does the only thing that she can think of. She uses her voice.

"Mark!" The scream is loud and piercing and manages to get the attention of a few passers-by including a raven haired woman in scrubs about to enter a taxi. The woman turns around and without hesitation rushes to Mark, pulls on the back of his jacket and out of the trajectory of the falling bookshelf.

Rachel's knees buckle in relief and she leans against the car and waits for her speeding heart to slow down. She distantly hears yelling and then looks up to see Mercedes running out of the building towards the little boy and his saviour. Mercedes is livid, scolding Mark, berating the movers and thanking the woman all at once.

Rachel hurriedly tells the driver to go on without her before running towards them. Before she can get there the woman is nodding her head at Mercedes' gratitude and then disappears into a waiting taxi.

"Are you crazy running off like that and almost getting yourself killed? What am I supposed to tell your mother, never mind the heart attack you almost gave me!"

"I'm sorry! I forgot my Spiderman in the car-"

"Mark! Jesus just- next time you wait for me! Do you understand?"

"Yes Aunt 'Cedes." Mark's bottom lip is trembling more at the loss of his new doll than at his brush with danger and Mercedes looks him squarely in the eyes for long seconds before kissing his forehead and then pulling him into an embrace. Looking up at Rachel she laughs in relief.

"What a day huh?" Rachel nods and then rubs Mark's back slowly, looking at the entrance to the building in disbelief.

"Yeah. What a day."

* * *

><p>Santana was late and if her driver didn't haul ass, <em>someone <em>was going to get a shoe shoved up theirs. It wasn't like she was planning on being late or anything. The night before, she had taken pains to lay out her clothing for an important case presentation that she had to give (in front of her peers and superiors) that following day. There was no doubt in her mind that she would rock the presentation. She had put the time and effort into it and she knew it like the back of her hand.

Life, however, could be a prick and if you didn't look sharp, it would screw you over with no apologies. Like today for instance. Her presentation was scheduled for two in the afternoon and in a bid to get there before everyone else to practice, she had set her alarm for eleven that morning. Of course her phone, the little fucker, had to go and die while she was sleeping and only the sheer panic of a looming presentation had been enough to rouse her from sleep on time so as not to affect her plans too badly. Then of course some kid had to almost die in front of her and if she hadn't taken that damned Hippocratic oath…

Well no. That was a bit overboard even for her, and kids weren't _that_ bad, but now she was late and she wouldn't have enough time to do a run through before everyone else got there. All because of this idiot driver and his inability to _fucking drive._

Sighing heavily she allows herself a few moments of meditation that is interrupted by the ringing of her cellphone. Checking the caller ID, she chuckles when she sees who it is.

"Hey Brittany."

"So, I have the best person for you to meet." Leave it to Brittany to dispense with the formalities and get straight to the point. She'd always liked that about her, well that and the insane flexibility that the dancer had displayed, which had been put to good use when they had hooked up two years ago thank you very much. They had decided that they worked better as friends and for some reason Brittany had made it her mission to set Santana up with any and everybody that crossed her path, including a clown that had told her that she could touch his balloon if she would let him touch hers. Considering how hard he had cried after she knee'd him in his groin, she was pretty sure that she'd popped his balloons.

"No. Uh uh. No more of your ridiculous blind dates Pierce."

"Oh come on. You'll love her. She's a brunette and short, well shorter than me, _and_ she sings. That's like your type right?"

"Have you been talking to Quinn again because seriously…" Fucking Quinn and her big mouth.

"Nope. I think she and Mike are hooking up though."

"How do you know that?"

"She told me last night."

"Oh God. Brittany I have to go." There was no way in hell that she was dealing with that clusterfuck on this day of all days.

"Look Tana just give it a shot. I told her about you and she seemed really interested. For me? Please?"

And of course now she's going to have to go on some stupid blind date all thanks to Brittany and her talent for making kicked puppies look like amateurs when it came to the guilt game.

"Fine. Whatever. Send me her info and I'll see what I can do."

"You're the best!" Nodding at the security guard as she enters the hospital, Santana thinks about tonight and how she's probably going to have to waste one of her very few and valuable nights off to go and meet one of Brittany's friends; who, given Brittany's propensity for missing important details, is probably a muppet or something.

"Uh huh."

* * *

><p>Or straight.<p>

"You're Santana Lopez?"

"In the flesh." Her presentation had gone ridiculously well, well enough that her attendings could barely find anything to grill her about and her fellow residents were now looking at her with something akin to respect. After staying behind to check up on some patients, she headed home to prepare for her blind date. In case Brittany really did strike gold, she decided to go with a look that was guaranteed to get her a good reaction. Keeping her hair down and in long waves, she chose a red dress that was about an inch shy of indecent and black stilettos that make her ass look fantastic. Everything was fine until her taxi had pulled up in front of the restaurant and she saw one Mercedes Jones looking decidedly heterosexual while waiting for her in a black, low-cut, knee length dress. If there was one thing that Santana Lopez was good at, it was spotting 'family' from a mile away and this woman wasn't pinging for her in the slightest.

"But you're not a man."

"Nope."

"I thought you were a guy."

"This I gathered."

Mercedes looks at her in disbelief and after letting out a small squeak of mortification, whips out her phone.

"This is what Brittany sent me. How the hell could she think that I- Oh my lord."

Looking at the phone Santana struggles not to laugh at the situation. This was typical Brittany at play and judging from the text that she had sent to Mercedes, the poor woman had a right to be confused.

_Santana Lopz. Doctor. Loves women and is super strong._

Yeah so maybe that last part is her fault. She and Brittany had been going at it pretty intensely on the way to her room one night and her impatience may have caused her to hoist the taller woman up and carry her the rest of the way into the bedroom.

"I even looked your name up because I wasn't familiar with it and they said it was a boy's name. Carlos Santana!"

Santana winces at this and nods her head in understanding.

"Yeah, no. That's his last name so it doesn't count and Santana's a unisex name. Look. There's been a mix up and it's all shock and awe, I know, but since we're both pretty clear that this isn't going to happen why not take advantage of that reservation and get something to eat anyway."

So she's not getting lucky tonight. She looks hot and this restaurant has a great reputation and she'll be damned if she's not going to at least get a good meal and some drinks out of this.

"Fine but you're buying."

She chuckles at this and then holds the door open for Mercedes.

"Deal."

* * *

><p>"I can't believe you kicked him in the crotch!" In the bright lights of the restaurant, where Mercedes could fully assess her 'date' she quickly realized that Santana had been the woman to rescue her godson from harm. After that discovery had been made, they were able to relax in each other's company and soon found that they had quite a few things in common, including their love for Beyonce and wicked sense of humour.<p>

Dinner's actually going a lot better than either of them had expected it to and they're on their third glass of wine when Santana tells Mercedes about the pervert clown that she had to give a beat down.

"Well technically I knee'd him but I honestly don't think his junk could tell the difference."

Mercedes laughs some more at this, a full laugh that lights up her face causes a smile to appear on Santana's face. This girl is cute and maybe if she weren't straight this could have actually gone somewhere because Santana is really enjoying her company. She is straight, however, so there goes that option.

"Okay so, I have a confession to make." Mercedes straightens in her seat and looks at Santana consideringly. "When I saw that you were a woman I honestly thought that there was no way that I would have fun on this thing and what the hell was I thinking listening to Brittany's crazy ass and everything but, I am more than happy to say that I actually had fun."

Santana takes a sip of her wine and nods in acceptance of the compliment.

"Thank you. Me too."

"I enjoyed it so much that I have an offer for you."

"Which is?"

"I have this friend named Rachel who I think you'd be perfect for. You guys have the same sense of humour and you're her type. Then again, I'm sure you're everyone's type in that dress. Still not gay."

Santana chuckles at this and then thinks about Mercedes' offer. Is she really going to put herself through all of this again? Sure, Mercedes turned out to be fun but there's no way that she can do another blind date.

"Thanks but-"

"Look before you say no, just take her number, I'll let her know that I gave it to you and you can see what happens."

Mercedes takes her phone and saves the number on it.

"Think about it."

* * *

><p>After seeing Mercedes off safely and then catching a taxi back to her place Santana is tired and just wants to sleep. For some reason the number that Mercedes gave her is on her mind to the point where it's driving her crazy with curiosity. She doesn't have any trouble finding someone to date, not usually, but there's something about a word of mouth recommendation that is more appealing than blind luck. Mercedes is also no Brittany and that in and of itself means that this Rachel person could be legit. Honestly it's just too exhausting to think about and if she doesn't do something about it, it'll be on her mind all night.<p>

Summoning the courage, she highlights Rachel's name and then hits the send button.

The phone rings for a few times before going to voicemail.

_Hi this is Rachel, I'm not available to take your call right now but leave your name and number and I'll get back to you._

Santana laughs to herself over the absurdity of the situation. She really doesn't know what she was expecting and she's so not surprised by the way that this has turned out. Putting her phone on the nightstand next to her bed, she slips her heels off and then softly walks towards the kitchen for a bottle of water. Her phone lights up with a new tweet.

_RachelBerryStar – Wow! What a crazy day today was! So glad that my friends and family are safe and sound. Met a real life hero today but couldn't thank them. Whoever you are, thank you!_

* * *

><p><em>AN: _

So.

March was a no good, sucky, horrible excuse for a month for me and threw off all of my plans to get anything done.

**But**

The worst is over (crosses fingers, toes, eyes, everything) and I can get back to writing. I do have some final exams coming up this month but writing has been helping with that hot mess so you can expect updates in a more timely fashion than, oh say, weeks.

To everyone that sent me comments and feedback, thank you so very much for giving the story a chance.

As always, have a great one people.


	3. Chapter 3

Her watch is cold in the air conditioned room of one of her patients as she waits for her interns. They're late, again, and Santana has had enough. She had warned them time and time again that getting on her wrong side wasn't a good idea. Of course they had to go and test her on that and now she has to be the bad guy.

"Hey Deb, have you seen my interns?" The nurse stops on her way to the elevator to cast Santana an incredulous look.

"They're not here yet?"

"Nope."

"Ha! What are you gonna do to 'em?"

"Enema duty for the next two weeks should be enough."

Debbie laughs and shakes her head at Santana.

"You're too soft on them Lopez."

"If that isn't the truth." Santana smiles at her and then turns to look at Mrs. Mitchell lying on the bed before her. The woman's eyes are closed and with the amount of morphine coursing through her body, they'll stay that way for a while yet. She'd been involved in a hit and run the previous night and had come in with massive internal bleeding, a concussion and two broken ribs. The driver of the vehicle was still missing and according to the police, Mrs. Mitchell was the only person who had seen him or her. Santana sighs and then reaches for the patient chart. They needed her to get better so that they could catch the son of a bitch that did this to her. One thing at a time though.

"Who's the man? Sam's the man!" Sam's enthusiastic voice startles her and she almost drops the chart in surprise.

"Sam. Somewhere out there is a patient of yours hoping and praying that they don't get an idiot for a doctor. Try not to disappoint them."

Sam laughs at her and then starts dancing in circles around the room incorporating a booty shake into his performance.

"Whatever Lopez. You keep talking but in a few minutes when I share the totally awesome and amazing news that I have with you, you'll be singing my praises all 'Oh Sam! You're like the best ever! What would I do without you?" His falsetto cracks a little during his poor imitation of her voice and she swipes at him with the chart to shut him up.

There's a cough coming from the doorway and both she and Sam spin around to see who it is.

"What's wrong with him?" Debbie casually leans against the door and points to Sam. She's always thought he was a bit, well, off with the weird voices he sometimes used on his patients but Dr. Lopez seems to like him and _that_ she can trust.

"He's an idiot. I thought we covered this already. Didn't we cover this already?" Debbie pauses to consider this for a moment and then nods her head in agreement.

"Oh yeah. Anyways, I found your runaways." One of her interns, a mousy looking girl with dull brown hair peeks into the room and gives Santana a hopeful look. She's most likely the spokesperson of the group coming with some cock and bull story about how they got held up in an elevator or something. Santana smirks evilly at her.

"Thanks Debbie. You," crooking her finger at the intern she beckons her and then levels her with her best bitch face. "tell your fellow doctors to give me ten minutes and in that time, try to come up with an excuse for your tardiness that doesn't insult my intelligence. Also you're all on enema duty, two weeks. Have fun."

The girl visibly pales and swallows thickly.

"Yes Dr. Lopez."

She dismisses the girl by turning to face Sam and then takes in his excited expression once more.

"What do you want Sam?"

"Oh many things Lopez, but today? Today I want to do you a favor."

"I'm waiting."

"Guess who got you tickets to the one night only special starring one Miss Rachel Berry who'll be performing songs from her iconic run on Broadway."

Her heart stops and she clutches at her chest in panic.

"Shut the fuck up!"

Sam nods and then grabs her hands.

"Yep! It's not front row or anything but the seats Santana, they're gold!"

She gurgles in response and has to clutch at the bed to keep herself up. The bed feels a bit lumpy and upon closer inspection she sees that she's clutching her patient's foot. Someone's going to have to explain those broken toes to her when she wakes up.

Sam goes back to doing his little jig as he waits for her to say something. He's looking mighty pleased with himself and if she didn't know any better…

"Alright, what do you want?" Sam stills and then innocently adjusts his white coat.

"What? Nothing! I'm doing this out of the goodness of my heart!"

"Cut the bullshit Gamgee, what do you want?"

"I want you to talk to Quinn for me." He spits out in a rush and then reaches for her when she turns away in disgust. "Please Santana, I'm desperate."

"So you try to bribe me with tickets now?"

"Well I knew you wouldn't want to do this for me. I had to sweeten the deal somehow and Rachel Berry's stage manager came in here last night with some serious food poisoning. It's like the cosmos were speaking to me."

"Did they tell you how much I don't like you?" She yanks her hand from his grip and then goes to monitor Mrs. Mitchell's vital signs.

"You love me."

"Not right now I don't. I told you, I _warned_ you not to go there with Quinn. What did I say? I said Sam, leave the girl alone. She doesn't want anything serious and what did you do?" She drops all pretence of observing Mrs. Mitchell and turns around to advance on him, poking his chest as she does. "You wouldn't listen. You had to hook up with her and then catch feelings with the world's coldest, meanest bitch. _Why are you in here_?" She snarls at the figure that appears in the doorway. Her intern yelps at the question and then hightails it out of the room.

"Look, I just want to talk to her. She's been avoiding me and I just want to know what happened. I think she's seeing Mike and, I mean come on. What does he have that I don't?"

Santana pinches her forehead in frustration and stares at the woman lying prone on the bed. A medically induced coma would be preferable to Sam's drama right now.

"Please?" Sam drops to his knees and looks up at her in desperation. "I'm begging you. I just want to talk. Promise."

"Fine. I'll talk to her but if you fuck this up-" Sam jumps up and then wraps her up in a hug.

"I won't, I promise. I'll pick you up tonight, we'll go to the show, we'll come up with a strategy and then tomorrow, you can talk to her."

She plucks the tickets from his pocket and then smiles to herself.

Whatever. Tonight she's seeing Rachel Berry.

* * *

><p>"Would you calm down? The show hasn't even started as yet." Sam gives her a frustrated look and then continues to people watch the now filled auditorium.<p>

"Fuck off Evans."

The show will start in five minutes and Santana is sure that in that time she'll be passed out somewhere from oxygen deprivation or drooling dumbly all over Sam.

So she was a little excited, who wouldn't be? This was Rachel Berry with the eyes and the voice and the cuteness. She'd probably die if she ever met the woman. No shame in that. Rachel would probably say something completely rational like 'Hi' and then Santana would flop on the floor like a freshly caught bass.

She had always prided herself on never really having a type. Women were beautiful no matter what package they came in and her dating history was a testament to that fact. As long as they were intelligent and decent, she had no problems. Hotness and an ass you can bounce a quarter off of didn't hurt either but there was something about Rachel Berry that had just short circuited her brain when she had first seen her.

Quinn had dragged her to some off Broadway show under the guise of educating her in the finer arts. She had protested and threatened and ranted and raved but Quinn was adamant that she 'learn some fucking class'. She had been prepared to storm out of the performance the first chance she got until the opening strains of the titular song had started playing and a tiny girl with a powerhouse voice had all but destroyed her.

So yes, she had a thing for Rachel but she kept it sane. At most she was prepared to follow her twitter and read the occasional article on the singer but beyond that she just couldn't be that fanatic. She didn't need to know the ins and outs of her life and whatever sordid affairs she engaged in. She stayed away from the gossip rags as much as possible and always felt a little sick when she thought of the way that they invaded people's privacy to get their stories. There was a thin line between fan and stalker and Santana Lopez was no stalker.

Her phone buzzed in her lap and Sam glanced over at her.

_Hi. I'm sorry but who is this?_

Santana furrows her brow in confusion and then checks the number that appeared when the text came through.

**who's this?**

_You're the one that called me._

No she didn't. She doesn't even know this number and with no name to go along with it… wait. This was the girl that Mercedes had told her to call, the Rachel girl. She'd deleted the number from her phone when she'd gotten no response and it seems that Rachel is now getting back to her.

**Oh yeah. i'm Santana. your friend Mercedes gave me your number. she told me to call you but**

The lights in the auditorium flicker to announce that the show is about to begin and Santana impatiently deletes her unfinished message and starts again. Whoever this girl is, she's not going to distract her from seeing Rachel Berry live and in person.

**Look I'm sorry. It must have been a wrong number or something.**

She waits for the girl to respond and then smiles at Sam. She may give him a hard time every now and again but he's not a bad guy. He knows how much she likes Rachel Berry and if he wanted to bribe her, there are a million other ways that he could have done it.

He smiles at her and then pats her knee.

"You ready?"

She nods and the lights go down.

_Well then. No problem._

* * *

><p>"You ready Rach?" Rachel nods and then looks at her make up artist's reflection in the mirror.<p>

The woman smacks her chewing gum and then steps back to admire her work. Nodding at what she sees, she gives Rachel's shoulder a squeeze and then turns to put her tools away. Rachel Berry is ready for her performance.

There's a knock on the dressing room door and after a few seconds of waiting two figures enter the room with huge bouquets in tow.

"From your admirers Miss Berry."

She laughs and then jumps up from her seat to accept the flowers from Kurt and Mercedes who are glowing with pride.

"How're you feeling? You excited?"

Rachel nods and then twirls in front of them.

"How do I look?" Mercedes gives her a once over and then heads over to the water cooler for a glass of water.

"Gorgeous honey."

Kurt hums in agreement and then plops down on her couch.

"Did you get your phone back yet? I can't believe you almost lost that thing."

"I know. I was practically useless without it. Thank God the driver kept it for me otherwise..."

Kurt nods knowingly and then looks over at Mercedes who is staring off into space.

"You alright there 'Cedes?"

She nods and then frowns at the floor. "Yeah I just feel like there's something important to-"

Rachel pauses her primping to look at her friend. Mercedes has been away for a few days on a trip to Los Angeles to meet with some record execs. She's finally getting the recognition that she deserves and Rachel's so excited for her. With Kurt's rising fame in the fashion circles she feels like they're finally becoming the people that they've dreamed of their entire lives.

"Nevermind. It'll come to me."

Rachel shrugs at Kurt and then goes back to looking at her reflection. It feels good to finally be here before her big show with her two best friends present to support her.

"How'd you lose that thing anyways?"

"Oh God, didn't I tell you? I forgot it in the car and went back to get it and then the thing happened with Mark? I nearly passed out I was so scared."

Mercedes shakes her head in disbelief and then shoots up from her sitting position on the couch arm. Just as she's about to speak Rachel's door flies open and her temporary stage manager flies in to shout that she has only a few minutes left before the show begins.

Kurt and Mercedes rise to leave and Mercedes pulls her aside.

"Remind me to tell you something about the Mark thing after the show."

"Okay? Is everything alright?"

"Yeah it's just something I think you'll be interested in."

Rachel assures her and then leans in for a hug.

"Break a leg Berry."

"Thanks guys." She laughs and then shoos them out.

The conversation with her friends reminds her that she hasn't yet gone through her phone. When she powered it up last night it had told her that she had a couple missed calls and unread texts. Most of the numbers she recognizes but there's one from a New York area code that had no name to go with it. Her past experiences have taught her that these kinds of things are usually the paps or press who have somehow gotten her number and want some sort of uncensored interview. She opts to proceed with caution and texts the number asking for some identifying information.

When the response she gets is not to her liking, she huffs in impatience and hastily types out another text. She should be prepping for her show but she really wants to teach this person some manners first.

_You're the one that called me._

**Look I'm sorry. It must have been a wrong number or something.**

Oh. Well that was a waste of time.

Sighing, she types out a response and then puts her phone back into her bag.

It's time for her to get on stage.

* * *

><p>Her favorite part of the show isn't actually the singing, surprising though it seems. She enjoys the singing don't get her wrong but more than anything she lives for the audience interaction. She loves regaling them with stories about her experiences on and off Broadway, loves the way they chuckle or laugh outright at her jokes and more than anything loves the idea that these strangers are all here under one roof, for her.<p>

It's a heady kind of feeling and she feeds off of it. After years of working and struggling and wondering if she was good enough it's amazing to have this validation.

She signals to the lighting director to shine his light into the audience so that she can pick someone to come up on stage and join her for a duet.

She usually has a hard time seeing into the crowd what with the spotlight shining directly into her eyes but now the place is lit up like Christmas and yeah… not a bad looking crowd.

She looks back at her drummer who is lightly perspiring and gives him an impish grin. She often teases him about the beer gut that he sports and he teases her about her height. This time when he sees her looking at him, he subtly flips her bird. She laughs and then waits for the ushers to give whichever person the spotlight has landed on, the microphone.

A middle aged man is excitedly waiting for Rachel to acknowledge him and she takes a second to look at the people seated around him to gauge their response.

She's fine at first but then her heart stutters in her chest and she clutches at it. The woman seated one row in front of her excited duet partner, she knows her. Or well not knows her but she's seen her before. She was the one who had saved Mark. Rachel's smile grows as she realizes who the woman is and she makes a mental note to track her down so she can thank her face to face. The way that she had just jumped in and yanked him from certain injury, she had almost collapsed in fear when it had happened.

The woman is looking at her intently and somewhat quizzically and Rachel guesses that she's probably wondering why she's staring at her. She must look so odd to this stranger just sitting there on stage with what she's sure is a shocked expression on her face.

She's pretty though. Her dark hair is up in a loose but elegant bun and she's wearing a black dress with silver earrings and a matching chain that she can just see peeking from the, well, ample cleavage in her line of sight. Her eyes are what captivate Rachel as they focus on her with laser like intensity and she has to break her gaze just to clear her befuddled mind. They're beautiful eyes and whatever make-up the woman has put on shows them off well. Rachel pauses her train of thought tilts her head to the side in confusion. Is she really checking this woman out in the middle of her performance? The woman licks her lips and Rachel's eyebrow goes up. Yup.

Her drummer clears his throat and she takes the hint. She'll ask her assistant or one of the security officers to find her after the show.

For now, she has a job to do.

* * *

><p>The rest of her performance goes off without a hitch and her second standing ovation leaves her breathless with excitement. There is nothing and will ever be anything that can compete with this moment. She thanks the audience one last time and then heads off the stage to her dressing room.<p>

She spots her assistant Charles on her way there and motions for him to follow her.

A few seconds later he appears and she gives him the woman's description and a message to join her backstage.

He nods and scurries off to do her bidding and she sits in the quiet of her room waiting for her adrenalin high to go away.

Her door flies open again and Mercedes and Kurt rush in with ecstatic looks on their faces.

They squeal in delight and then do their traditional post performance, post good news, post everything dance.

A second later Kurt's phone goes off and Mercedes and Rachel's laughter is reduced to giggles when he answers it.

Her assistant returns with a smile on his face and looks out into the hallway with an encouraging expression. Rachel immediately sobers up and surreptitiously smoothes her hair down, glancing in the mirror to make sure that her make up still looks fresh. She feels nervous all of a sudden and the memory of the woman's eyes, intelligent and alluring, hits her again. She takes a deep breath and then plasters a huge smile on her face. This is it.

"Miss Berry I have the woman that you asked to see. Mrs. Carey Everton."

"Oh Miss Berry I'm such a huge fan of yours! Your performance tonight was nothing short of amazing and your closing song… I died!"

Rachel's smile falters and she looks at her assistant in confusion.

_RachelBerryStar – Never send a man to do a woman's job_…

* * *

><p>AN: Nothing to say really except thanks for reading and commenting. I'm glad that you guys are enjoying the story and please don't worry, we're only three chapters in. Rachel and Santana will meet have no fear.

Enjoy your weekend.


	4. Chapter 4

"I just-I just don't get it. How," Rachel pauses to hiccough into her drink, "How can one guy be so smart and yet so stupid? I mean he graduated from Columby-colly-college."

Kurt nods along with her and then tries to take her drink when she gets distracted by the crowd swirling around her.

"You might want to go a little easy on your tequila there sweetie. You've got time."

Rachel shakes her head and then looks down at her glass as it slowly moves towards Kurt. It must be magical.

"I thought I did but nope. I do not haven't the time Kurt and that's the probble."

Kurt spies Mercedes walking towards them and then signals for her to hurry. With Rachel in her current state, he needs all the help he can get. After her assistant came in with some random woman, Rachel had politely answered a few questions, taken some photos with her and then pleaded fatigue. The woman was so overjoyed just to be able to meet the famous Rachel Berry that she'd happily acquiesced and left with a huge smile on her face. As if a switch had been turned, Rachel then turned to her assistant and shot him a cold and intimidating glare that left the boy trembling in fear. She then stormed off towards the nearest bar to get, as she so eloquently put it, thoroughly wasted.

"I just don't see what he did to make you so mad at him."

"He disobeyed a direct command from his captain leader lady."

Mercedes looks at Rachel in confusion and then mouths 'what?' to Kurt. He rolls his eyes as if to say 'I don't know' and then goes back to soothing Rachel.

"How did he disobey a direct command?"

"I told him to bring the woman with the pretty eyes backstage. You know the one 'Cedes."

"I do?"

"The one who saved Mark! Aren't you listening to me?" Rachel brushes her bangs from her sweating forehead and then looks blearily from Kurt to Mercedes. "You're not listening to me."

"Wait, Santana?"

Rachel perks up at the new information and leans closer towards Mercedes. Her name is Santana? What a nice name! How does Mercedes know her name?

"How d'you know her name?"

"I went on a date with her!"

Rachel leans back in horror, accidentally bumping into a man headed towards the bar. She shouts 'excuse you!' to him and then smirks as he cowers away from her. He really needs to control his alcohol intake, she thinks and then takes another sip from her drink.

"You what?" Kurt shouts into the din all but forgetting Rachel's inebriated state. Forgive him if he's wrong but isn't Mercedes very much straight?

"Yeah it's a long story. Brittany, the crazy dancer I met working for Ne-Yo, well she set me up on a date and I thought it was a guy, turned out to be the woman from that day. Her name's Santana Lopez, she's a doctor and very much gay and you'd love her Rach. She's good people."

"I know I'd love her I asked her to meet me. No, I asked Charles to- Charles, that idiot!"

Mercedes chooses to ignore her drunk friend's outburst and continue with her story.

"Yeah well I gave her your number. I'm surprised she didn't call."

"You did? Well why didn't she? I would have talked to her. I make good conversation. Really. I'm good at making conversation. We could have talked and laughed and she could tell me how she got her hair to look so pretty and her eyes to look so-" She snaps her fingers at Kurt for assistance.

"Pretty?" Mercedes rolls her eyes at Kurt's poor attempt at helping.

"Yeah. So pretty." Rachel sighs into her drink and after a few beats, Mercedes turns her attention to her..

"You're interested in her then? 'Cause I can call Brittany and get her number for you."

Rachel nods excitedly at her while tapping Kurt's shoulder for him to pay attention.

"Please!"

She's going to get this woman, Santana's, number and then she'll ask her out and Santana will say yes and they'll go on a date and finally…

Finally…

Her head falls to the table with a loud thud and Kurt and Mercedes look down at her passed out form.

"Let's get her home."

* * *

><p>"What were you up to last night? I tried calling you like ten times and it went straight to voicemail." It's been fourteen hours since her big night out with Sam ended and Santana is still riding a high that only Rachel fucking Berry can provide. She's honestly never been this amped about anything; she so amped in fact that even the looming fuckery that is Quinn's little tryst with Mike is doing little to spoil her good mood. They really need to talk about that by the way.<p>

"Hello Fabray. Nice to see you too. You look good."

Quinn pauses mid step on her way towards Santana and twists her face in disgust.

"Ew. You're happy."

"Ecstatic actually. Over the fucking moon."

Santana sends a cheesy grin Quinn's way and then beckons her closer.

"Yeah, I can see. God it's like watching a wild animal being born. Creepy and gross but I can't seem to stop looking."

She shudders and then sits down on the park bench that Santana had claimed ten minutes earlier for them to use. Quinn had asked her to meet in the park for some girl time and knowing Quinn that meant that something was up. She doesn't mind, not really; if she doesn't like whatever it is that Quinn is up to she can just say no. Plus this way she can tell Quinn about Sam's ill timed and psychotic quest to get back in her pants.

"Shut up."

"Yeah, yeah. Here's your shake."

"Ooh! Mint Chocolate." The little jig she does as she accepts the drink earns her a glare from Quinn and brightens her mood even more. Fucking with her friends is seriously the best part of her day. "So what do you want?"

"I never said I wanted anything."

"God you suck at lying. I thought you WASPs perfected that shit right out of the gate."

"Christ's sake Santana-." Quinn pauses to look around for a bit and then turns towards Santana. "Look, Mike needs to borrow your apartment for the night. Just for a couple of hours." She's talking so fast that Santana barely catches anything besides 'your apartment' and 'Mike' and hell no is she agreeing to anything like that.

"Why the fuck isn't he asking me this?" Okay, her good mood? Seriously being fucked with.

"Because he's afraid you'll punch him in the crotch like you did the last time he asked for a favor."

Santana pauses to savour the memory. That had been pretty funny at the time.

"Yeah and just like last time, my answer is no."

"Come on, please Santana. He really wants to impress his boss and, I don't know if you remember, but his apartment looks like shit."

"Not my problem. I told him to clean that rat nest months ago."

"Look he and this asshole are both up for a promotion at the studio. If he throws this party, does a little schmoozing, then he's a shoo-in for the job."

Santana shakes her head in disgust. If it's so important why doesn't he use Quinn's apartment? It's certainly cleaner than hers and she won't have to have strangers all up in her spot. She shares her musings with Quinn and her friend shakes her head in disagreement.

"It's cleaner yeah but this is Fermera Towers. Do you know how impressed his boss will be if he throws a party there instead of my place? Come on please? Please?"

"And who's gonna set up and host the party because it sure as hell isn't gonna be me?"

"We will. We'll do everything. You give us the keys, we'll set up and afterwards, we'll clean up. It'll be like we weren't even there."

Santana sighs into her chocolate mint shake. She was having a wonderful day; a fucking glorious day. Trust her two best friends to send it all crashing down. Then again, if she allows them to do this then she can finally settle this Mike, Quinn and Sam thing once and for all. An evil grin appears on her face and Quinn leans away from her in trepidation.

"You know what? I'm having a good day so why not? One question though."

"Yeah?"

Quinn looks at her hopefully, already excited for Mike's big night out. Yeah she'll help but she sure as hell is going to get some entertainment out of it as well.

"Can I bring a date?"

* * *

><p>"You alright Rae?"<p>

Kurt slips into bed with her and rubs her shoulder soothingly. Rachel groans and then waits for her stomach to stop roiling, all the while praying for a swift death. After Kurt and Mercedes dropped her off last night she had spent her day alternating between passed out and nauseously awake. It's only after eight o'clock at night now but it's late enough that the only plans that she has involve her bed and nursing what's left of this horrible hangover. Whoever said that tequila was a good idea was obviously a masochist. Or drunk.

"I'll take that as a no and proceed accordingly. I've got the dvr set up with all of your favorite movies, there's more herbal tea in the keurig and, of course, I'm here."

"Mmmph."

"I know sweetie, I know. Now what do you want to see first?"

"Kurt, honey, I love you but you keep shouting like that and I'm going to have to kick you out."

"Dear lord are you still drunk?" Kurt gasps in horror and leans away to avoid any projectile vomit that might fly his way. There's no telling with Rachel. One minute she's belting Barbra, the next she's barfing all over your expensive Prada shoes and excuse him but those things are a bitch to clean.

"I'm- well I'm better, but my head hurts and I think my evil neighbour knows because why else would they be throwing a party tonight of all nights? I'm telling you Kurt there's a demon living in that place."

Kurt nods his head in understanding.

"Oh I believe you. Last month when you flew out to California, I stopped by to drop some of your things off and this woman came barreling out in her bra and panties yelling at me and calling me an asshole for being loud at such an ungodly hour. Rachel, it was three in the afternoon." Kurt deadpans and then picks some lint from her blanket.

Rachel's laugh turns into a groan and she sits up to prevent her rising nausea from overtaking her.

"Kurt, don't make me laugh."

"I'm serious. Whoever she is, she's got serious problems. Who the hell sleeps at three in the afternoon?"

"Lots of people do. I did today. Maybe she was hung over. Anyways from what I can tell, she must be an insomniac or something. I've never seen her but I hear her door opening and closing at all hours of the night."

"You say insomniac, I say psychopath."  
>Rachel pats Kurt's leg to soothe him and then slumps back down in bed once more.<p>

Now that she's starting to feel better her mind is choosing to replay the previous night's events. God, she's so fucking tired of being this pitiful woman who needs someone by her side just to feel happy. Her last relationship proved how dangerous that kind of thinking was.

She wasn't looking for anything too serious now, just something to combat the constant loneliness that she felt. She thought that she had stumbled across something with that Santana woman but that was clearly a dead end. Whatever, she was Rachel Berry. One of Broadway's leading ladies and all that. She could do anything if she set her mind to it and she simply refused to let a little set back like that derail her plan to find happiness. God, she was starting to sound like one of the characters in her plays.

A pounding sound emanating from the apartment next door pulls her out of her reverie and Rachel snarls in frustration. Whoever this neighbour of hers was, if she kept that noise up, she was in for a rude awakening.

* * *

><p>"Hey, hey hey! What the hell do you think you're doing?" Santana rushes towards one of the workmen that Mike hired to set up, with a martini in hand and a scowl on her face.<p>

"Yo, Mike said decorate. So I'm decorating." He shrugs at her and resumes his pounding.

"This is a rental unit you asshole. That means no nails in the walls!" What he doesn't know can't hurt him and he definitely doesn't need to know that her parents own the place. It's not like they'll do anything to her if she puts a nail in but she'd really like to not have a hole in her wall for crying out loud. "Plus, I have neighbours."

"Hey, what do you want me to do lady?"

"Give me that!" she snatches the hammer from the workman's hand and stomps towards Mike. That punch to the crotch that Quinn was so worried about? He's practically begging for it now.

"I know, I know. No nails, no pounding. I got it."

"You better get it because the next nail that goes up, I'll rip it out and poke you in the eye with it."

"I understand and I appreciate you being so gracious and letting me use your apartment like this." Mike smiles at her and then attempts to pat her head which, what the fuck?

"Don't get snarky with me Chang. I let you have this place on the condition that it would be returned to me as I left it."

He nods and shoos her towards the balcony.

"I know. Go outside and relax. We'll call you in when we're done."

"Whatever. And there better be some seriously fine ass in this place when I get back."

She hears Quinn laughing at her from the kitchen and gives Mike another mean look before sauntering off towards her balcony. She's not really opposed to this whole party thing. She'd do anything for her friends if they asked but with this bunch, give in too easily and suddenly it's 'Santana this and Santana that.' It's best to be as mean and belligerent as possible right off the bat so they don't get any bright ideas. Plus, she really loves fucking with them.

Still, the sooner they can set up and get this party going, the sooner they can leave. She has three surgeries scheduled for tomorrow and she needs her sleep.

An hour later her living room is filled to capacity with all manner of dancing and showbiz types schmoozing all over her good furniture. There's literally no one that she can talk to at this thing which is fine because she really doesn't want to do much talking anyways. At least Mike had the decency to invite some ridiculously good looking people and if the look that the brunette near the 'bar' with the killer legs is giving her is anything to go by, then she's pretty sure that she's getting laid tonight. Thank you Jesus!

Medicine may seem flashy and impressive but it's been stifling the hell out of her sex life.

"I think we might have to lower the music a bit. I just got a call from Sully about your neighbour filing a noise complaint."

Quinn's been sporting this glowing look on her face all night, little miss proud girlfriend, as she chats with some of the guests. Now as she approaches Santana, her expression changes to concern.

"That prissy little prick. He can wake me up with his screeching and that's okay but play your music a little loud and suddenly it's pandemonium," she looks in the direction of neighboring apartment with distaste and brushes her hair out of her face.

"Don't worry about it okay? I'll talk to Sully." Quinn nods and then flits off to Mike's side and laughs at some corporate looking type who Santana guesses is probably his boss.

She pulls her phone out of her pocket and dials Sully's number.

"Hey. I heard you got a complaint."

"Yeah. Music's too loud."

"Whatever. You stopping by tomorrow night?"

"I don't know. Do I have to?"

"Well you _can_ go suck a bright, shiny-."

"Santana."

"Yes, you have to."

"Then I'll be there."

She hangs up with Sully and considers her plans for tomorrow night. It's his birthday and she's planning on taking him somewhere _swanky_ to celebrate. His word, not hers.

Bar Brunette bats her eyelashes at her for the umpteenth time that night causing her to smirk and then boldly make her way towards the woman. She forgets all about Sully and his birthday plans and when she gets halfway there, she hears what sounds like someone trying to break her door down. She quickly signals to Mike to turn the music down and head for the door.

The pounding grows more insistent and she could have sworn that she heard a female voice on the other side of it. It's probably Sam playing one of his stupid tricks. She'd invited him to the party just to piss Quinn off and now he's probably trying to make a dramatic entrance or something. Guy's always been an idiot like that.

When she gets to the door she peeks through her peephole and sees a flash of blonde hair. She takes a deep breath and then quickly swings the door open with a scowl on her face.

"Samuel Evans."

"Hey Santana. You'll never guess who I ran into on my way over here."

Sam has this huge shit-eating grin on his face and he's practically trembling with excitement over his news. She leans in the doorway and stares him down. There's someone very short behind him, in sweats it seems and she has to lean to the side just to get a good look at-

Holy shit.

"Santana, allow me to introduce you to your neighbor Rachel Berry. That's right, your neighbor."

Then Rachel Berry in person, clad in grey sweats with an NYU logo emblazoned across the front, steps into view and Santana stops. She literally just stops. Stops breathing, stops moving, stops blinking, just stops. Sam is still talking about how he ran into Rachel on his way to her apartment and how amazing it is that she's her neighbor but she can barely make out what he's saying, it all sounds like static to her ears.

Her heart starts to race and her palms feel sweaty and she's sure that if she had a mirror she'd look the spitting image of a ghost because Rachel Berry is standing in front of her. She raises her left hand to her chest to calm her speeding heart beat and then frantically gestures at Sam to call someone. A doctor maybe, a real doctor because she doesn't trust his crazy ass with her life and she can't do a thing except stare in wonder and abject terror at-

"Hi. I'm, well your friend just," the shorter woman seems to take a breath and then plasters a huge smile on her face. "I'm Rachel Berry."

Later on she'll feel like an absolute and complete idiot for what happens next. In this moment however, she can't do a thing, not one thing except…

Squeak.

Sam's eyes bulge in their sockets and he scrambles to cover for her. He knows how important this is for her. If there's anyone who understands it's Sam.

"She uh, she's a huge fan, _right Santana?_" he gestures at her to compose herself and then shoots a charming smile Rachel's way.

There's this feeling she has of distantly watching, literally seeing, herself making a fool out of, well, herself but she can't control it, can't do anything else except…

Another squeak comes out and this time Rachel winces in response.

There are no holes small and far away enough to hide in right now. She wants to die on the spot because her body and brain have betrayed her and they've talked about this; she _told_ them that if she ever had the chance to meet Rachel she'd be charming and witty and she'd tell her how talented she is and how life changing it was to see her on stage that fateful day. She counted on them to help her do just that, the traitors.

There's commotion behind her and she senses Mike and Quinn's arrival and then sees Sam's eyes narrow in response. Rachel looks at her with this pained expression, as if urging her to do, what she doesn't know and can't possibly fathom because surely she can't be the first fan to seize up upon meeting her.

_Please don't let her be the only one that's this fucking pathetic._

Quinn speaks first. "Oh my God, it's Rachel Berry. Santana, it's Rachel Berry!"

She wants to yell at Quinn to shut the ever-loving fuck up because she knows. She fucking knows!

Rachel looks over at Quinn and then back at her with an almost sad and lost expression and then, as if taking pity on her and her whole situation, walks towards Mike and Quinn to shake their hands.

"Hi. Are you friends of Santana's? Well, of course you are, you're in her apartment! The apartment that's right next to mine, _ohmygod!" _The last few words are uttered in a whisper and then Rachel seems to gather herself together before speaking again. "It's lovely to meet you."

Mike and Quinn nod reverently and then lapse into silence as if to accommodate Rachel.

Rachel stands closer to her now; close enough for Santana to see the faintest blush appear on her cheeks while she assesses the wreck that used to be Santana.

"You see, Santana, I'm just next door and the noise, well I've had the worst day and I'd hoped that maybe-" she lets the sentence drop as if to offer Santana a chance to salvage this mess. No such luck.

After a few seconds of silence, Mike cuts in.

"Oh, that's my fault actually. I asked Santana to let me use her apartment to throw a party. She's such a good friend that she said yes, right San?"

Santana looks towards the elevator that stands like a beacon at the end of the hallway and wills something, anything, to happen.

"Right," Mike continues, "She's a good friend like that. A good person, isn't she Quinn?" Quinn looks at him in surprise and then seems to cotton on to his meaning.

"Oh, oh right, yeah. Good person."

There's another awkward silence before Sam, that _rat sonofabitch_ starts to giggle. The fucking fuck actually giggles and it sets Mike off, who sets Quinn off, who sets Rachel off and then they're all laughing like they're old friends and it would be great, splendid even, if it wasn't all directed towards her. She doesn't think she's ever been this red in her entire life.

Thankfully, the elevator dings and Sully appears, walkie talkie in hand, and sees her. He raises his hand in salute and, it's only because he's Sully, only because if anyone knows her best it's him, that he sees the look of absolute terror on her face and stops short.

She's near tears at this point and she prays to every deity in her arsenal that someone will save her from this.

"Santana?" She almost whimpers in response. "There you…are? We need you in the office!"

She looks up hopefully at him and then nods furiously.

"What's wrong?" Oh thank everything, her voice still works.

"What?" Sully looks around him in panic and then beckons her towards him. "There's an illness!"

"What kind of illness?" She sees Rachel looking at them in confusion and she nods slowly to encourage him. "Did someone pass out?"

"On the floor, yes!"

"Then let's go!"

Santana grabs Sully's hand and practically sprints towards the elevator. When she gets there, Sully looks at her in confusion and whispers under his breath,

"What the hell is going on?"

"'There's an illness?' Seriously Sully?"

"What? It was the only thing I could come up with. You looked like you were shitting your pants back there!"

The elevator dings and without hesitation they board. The last thing she sees before the doors close is Rachel looking at her with this completely lost expression on her face. She feels nauseous and horribly embarrassed and the only though flying through her brain is that Rachel Berry is her neighbor and she just made a complete ass out of herself.

* * *

><p>AN: I'm still in the middle of finals and will be well into next week so I'm here, beaten and broken but here. Thanks once again for the reviews and if you want to message me directly for a prompt(er) response, my tumblr's the best place for that. I don't have a clue about anything on this site except the publish and pm features so...

Good luck in your upcoming (or already completed) exams and with Glee. But mostly with Glee.


	5. Chapter 5

"So what are you going to do?"

She's pacing. Like, not spazzing out pacing, but like pacing. A lot. Just up and down, up and down Sully's office.

"About?" It had been approximately three minutes since she had made a complete ass out of herself in front of arguably her favourite celebrity and oh, you know, neighbour and now she was in Sully's office pacing and there was a fly that kept buzzing nearby and it was driving her-

"You have a fly."

"What?"

"You have a fly. A fly-buzz buzz?- a fly, in here. Do you have bug spray or something? Because you have a scientific marvel on your hands. What is that a horse fly? It's-it's huge."

And now Sully's a lot closer than he was before and his hands are on her shoulders and he's asking her to mime his deep breaths because she's panicking again and-

_In._

_Out._

_In._

_Out._

"Jesus Christ, I just made an ass out of myself in front of Rachel Berry."

"Yep."

* * *

><p>She's concerned, among other things. Everything had gone by so quickly and she can't even begin to process what went down because the woman, Santana, is her neighbor and a doctor according to Sam who's her friend and who has spent the past fifteen minutes explaining to her that Santana is usually not that weird but that she was stressed out from work because being a doctor is stressful, obviously, and-<p>

_Whew._

Okay so he's rambling a little bit and she kind of gets it. Santana freaked and bolted and someone had a heart attack or something if the security guard was anything to go by. She hadn't meant to laugh in the girl's face or anything but she'd just been so caught off guard because who the hell could have guessed that the woman that she'd spent the past few days looking for had been right under her nose?

It's ridiculous to say the least but at least now she can do something about it. She has something to go on. It's been a few minutes since she'd filed the noise complaint and Santana's friends, Quinn and Mike had already returned to their party so things have calmed down considerably. Now if she could just get Sam to shush for s bit.

"-and so you see, Cardiology is in and of itself a very stressful profession."

"Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Please stop. I-I get it completely and its fine okay."

Sam's face turns bright pink and he nods. Okay now she's gone and been rude to the poor guy.

"I'm sorry. It's just been a weird night and you don't know this but I've actually been looking for your friend for a while now. See, she helped a friend of mine out a while ago and I just wanted to thank her for it." Okay she's actively lying through her teeth now. No she doesn't just want to thank her for what she did. Now that she's had the opportunity to process everything a little she's, well, intrigued. Because for the first time in God knows how long she doesn't feel bored or like she's just existing. For the first time in too long she finally has something, a goal if you will, to reach for and for once, it's exactly what she needs.

"There is something that you can do for me though."

* * *

><p>Her neck hurts. And her back too but her neck is the most pressing concern right now. Santana shifts in her seat to get more comfortable and winces as a sharp pain travels down her neck to settle at the base of her spine.<p>

"_Sonofabitch._" She groans a little as she rises from her spot in Sully's chair and surveys her surrounding in disappointment. Okay so, to recap. She met Rachel Berry, ran out like a punk, had a near nervous breakdown and then spent the night in Sully's office. Perfect. She's a complete mess and her face looks like she spent the night balancing on it but otherwise, yeah still a mess.

"You want some coffee?" Sully, God bless him, is still around ostensibly waiting for an explanation for last night's ridiculousness but she can't really talk about it yet without wanting to die of embarrassment so for now she just nods and straightens her hair and dress and attitude.

She is Santana fucking Lopez. She is not a punk. She will not be intimidated byt anybody least of all some random celebrity that she doesn't even know.

"Ready to go upstairs?"

"Nope."

At least Sully has the decency to look away when he snorts at her. Jackass.

"Oh come on Santana. What are you gonna do, rent out my office and live here? 'Cause I gotta tell you, things might get a little cramped."

"Shut up." She shoots him a death glare and then accepts the hot cup of coffee with a nod of thanks.

"Well then what are you going to do? So what if you freaked out up there. She's a big star right? You can't possibly be the first person to act like that in front of her."

"It doesn't matter whether or not I am, okay?" She's pacing again. "Look, it's- you know me. You saw how ridiculous I used to act whenever she popped up on tv or online. Like, just imagine someone you think is really incredibly talented and hot and you finally get to meet them and the only thing that you can do is-"

She still can't even say it and this is the morning after. Rachel Berry lives in her building. She stops pacing at looks at Sully.

"Wait a fucking minute. You work here."

He looks confused for a moment and moves to the now vacated seat behind his desk and waits for her to go on.

"I'm aware."

"You work here. You of all people should have known that she lived here."

He has the decency to look ashamed before avoiding eye contact with her altogether.

"Sully."

"Look. You think I didn't want to tell you? I work in a high profile building where very important people with lots of money choose to stay for certain periods of time. Do you honestly think that your parents can charge the exorbitant amount of money that they do for this place because it's got marble countertops and a nice view of the park? Hell no."

She kind of has an idea where this is going already but that's the thing with Sully. He's quiet and generally a pacifist until you get him riled up. And then, he's, well, this.

"I get it."

"People pay for privacy. PRI-VA-CY."

"I get it."

"I signed a contract the day that I started working here that said that I would not disclose tenant info to anyone regardless of who or what they were even if they were the owners' daughter!"

"I GET IT! God, you're so touchy about your work. I get it, okay?"

He looks at her for a second longer before leaning back in his seat and relaxing again. She loves him but sometimes he's such a drama queen.

"I'm sorry kid. I would have if I could have. You know how it goes."

She moves over to the extra seat he has for visitors which is really just some old worn out couch that he's had for years and refuses to get rid of for some unknown reason. It's odd looking and lumpy but it's strong and does the job, kind of like Sully. She'd been proud of her little metaphor for him when she came up with it a few years ago and had shared it with him thinking that he'd appreciate the parallels. He hadn't.

"Okay, look, I have surgeries today so I'm getting out of your hair just… gimme something to go on in case I run into her this morning."

Sully scratches at his chin and thinks about it for a while.

"Don't faint."

She nods and then makes a move for the door.

"You're an ass. Happy birthday by the way."

"Least I didn't punk out in front of Rachel Berry."

It's not perfect, her morning. Her neck's a little sore and her pride is so bruised it's a casualty at this point. But the bird she flips Sully as she walks out manages to make things just a little bit better.

* * *

><p>"So let me get this straight, the crazy weird screechy lady next door is the woman that you've been practically stalking and she ran away from you when you met her last night."<p>

She'd debated on whether or not to tell Kurt about her little incident last night but by the time she'd returned to her apartment he'd already passed out on her bed leaving just barely enough room for her to squeeze in. After an early breakfast and enough time for them both to gather their wits, she'd told him everything that had happened and was currently waiting for some insight.

"Pretty much, yeah."

"Huh."

"Huh? That's all you have to say is huh? And by the way I haven't been stalking her, I've just been following a lead."

Kurt snorts indelicately at her and then throws a grape from his fruit salad at her head.

"Yeah that's why you had your assistant track her down and got wasted when he messed it up. Because you were following a lead."

"Whatever." It's a little bit funnier now in the light of day the way this whole thing has played out, she thinks. First the incident with Mark and then Mercedes and then her assistant and now; her life is like a television show sometimes. She rises to clear their breakfast things and then, after stealing a grape from Kurt, she heads to her front door to see if her newspaper has arrived.

"You have to admit though," she continues as she opens the door, "it certainly does spice things up a bit doesn't it?"

And there, as if God himself had planned it, is one Santana Lopez in last night's outfit on her way to her apartment.

* * *

><p>"Hi."<p>

Seriously? This is some bullshit. She's been good, alright maybe not_ good-good,_ but she donates to charities, she goes to church, hell she even saved a kid's life the other day. She's a doctor for crying out loud. Just how much karma does one need to accumulate before someone up there cuts them a break?

Santana sighs deeply and then leans her forehead against her door without turning around. She's tired and she has a long day ahead of her. The only upside to this situation is that the bar is set so low as far as their interactions go that she really can't mess this up any further.

"Hello Rachel Berry."

She hears a soft chuckle and then the rustle of clothing.

"You know you can call me Rachel, right?"

Santana laughs dryly and then shrugs her shoulders in defeat. The only way that she is going to do this is if she maintains strict physical contact with her door.

"No."

"No?" There's more of that rustling sound and then light footsteps that signify that Rachel Berry, her neighbour, is coming closer. Santana closes her eyes tightly and waits. "Why 'no'?"

"Because calling you Rachel implies that this is some kind of cordial and friendly interaction. Calling you Rachel implies that I haven't made a complete fool out of myself and am not dying of mortification. Therefore, no, I can't call you Rachel."

"Well," there's a pause and Santana takes that time to mentally pat herself on the back for such a stellar performance thus far. Really, this is going swimmingly. "Can you at least look at me?"

"Nope."

Rachel lets out an exasperated breath and then steps closer.

"You can't honestly think that I'm in any way put off by last night can you? I mean, do you really think that I'd be talking to you if I were?"

There's nothing but the sound of a clock inside Rachel's apartment ticking away and some weird humming, also coming from Rachel's apartment. Rachel growls in frustration.

"This is ridiculous."

"Very much so."

"You're really not going to look at me."

"I'm really not."

Rachel puffs out a breath of air and then runs hand through her hair.

"What about tomorrow? Will you talk to me tomorrow?"

Okay this is enough. Santana gets why _she's_ acting the way she is. She's been a fan of Rachel's for quite some time now, girl is hot as hell and sings like an angel. What she can't quite figure out is why Rachel feels so compelled to talk to her.

"Why do you care?"

"Because." she leaves it at that and Santana turns to look at her in frustration.

"You're looking at me." Rachel's wearing an impish grin and leaning again the wall separating their front doors.

"No I'm scowling at you, there's a difference."

Rachel's smile grows and Santana's frown deepens in response.

"You're still looking and you haven't answered my question."

"What question?"

"Will you talk to me tomorrow?" Santana's lost and-and confused and tired and just what exactly is going on here?

"I don't know." Rachel purses her lips and then nods decisively.

"Well then when will you know?"

Santana lets out a growl and then shakes her head.

"I don't know. Soon-ish? What are you doing? Why are you talking to me?"

Rachel's pulls away from the wall and looks at her in confusion.

"Because you're my neighbour. It's very important to maintain good neighbourly relationships. I mean, what if there was an intruder next door and you needed help? Or what if I fell and hit my head and needed medical assistance? Good neighbourly relationships are key to providing assistance in such situations."

Santana's head hurts and she's pretty sure her mouth has been open for at least a minute during that long ass spiel that Rachel- no Rachel Berry- just let out.

"You're insane."

"Nope. Just being neighbourly." Rachel's impish smile is back now and Santana gets the sneaking suspicion that she's being toyed with.

"Okay then. Well I'm going to go inside now so you and your whatever this is can go have fun together."

Rachel nods and then turns away towards for her newspaper.

"Alright neighbour, see you tomorrow."

"Jesus." Santana quickly enters her apartment and then closes the door and leans on it. The woman is insane. If she'd known that Rachel Berry was this ridiculous and frustrating she probably might have eased up with the fan-girling. She waits for a beat and then hears the musical sound of laughter and then Rachel's door closing.

Crazy.

_RachelBerryStar - watch?v=zMUGJZrR9Jg :)_

* * *

><p><em>AN: (Google the link as is. And thanks for the patience and reviews. Mostly the patience. Have a great day.)_


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